Doodling
by E.M Travers
Summary: Castiel's drawings are a sign of affection. Dean's...not so flattering, but just the same. Destiel...ish...fluff...


"Cas."

"Cas."

"Cas!"

"I heard you the first time, Dean." Castiel muttered as his sharpened pencil glided across clean white paper.

"Oh. Sorry….but it's not like you to ignore people." Dean said, his hands behind his head and tilting back in his chair.

"I wasn't ignoring you." Castiel said, brown furrowing in concentration as he was putting some shading into his art.

"…What're you working on, anyways?" Dean thought out loud, trying to peer across the end table to see what his friend had drawn.

"A drawing." The angel said with a blank expression.

"Oh, 'cause I thought you were baking biscuits." Dean muttered, smirking at his oblivious friend.

"…Your sense of perception is terribly off if you thought I was baking-"

"Yeah. I know. Sarcasm, remember?" Dean cut him off, returning to his relaxed pose.

"Oh." The blue-eyed male's eyebrows furrowed once more in confusion before he returned to sketching.

When he was done, he slid the paper across the table to show Dean.

He'd drawn a picture of Sam.

Down to every last hairline-detail and every freckle.

It was flawless.

"How'd you learn to do this?" Dean asked, slightly impressed at the sudden artistic talent.

"When we were in the park, we passed this man drawing a woman on a canvas. She looked…pleased….and he looked pleased as well." Castiel explained, pulling a fresh sheet out from under it and picking up his pencil again.

"Your point?" Dean asked.

"Well…I was pondering the appeal. And if I'm correct…it's a sign of…" The angel sought for the right word.

"-Affection, between some humans. Drawing them." Castiel finished. Scanning blue eyes glimpsed at the older Winchester before returning to the paper.

"Some yeah. By some, you mean very few." Dean grinned, taking a piece of paper and one of the angel's pencils.

"What do you mean?"

"Not many people can draw as good as you can, Cas." Dean shrugged, doodling.

"…Really?" Castiel asked after a few moments pause.

"Nope." Dean smiled, holding up a drawing of what appeared to be a more complex species of stick figure.

A trench coat wearing species of stick figure.

"…What exactly is that supposed to be?" Castiel asked after another pause, having returned full attention back to his own partially finished art.

"It's _who_, not _what_." Dean snorted.

"Fine then. Who, Dean?" Castiel asked while working on shading in a pair of detailed eyebrows.

"You."

Castiel looked over with an almost-amused expression, head cocking adorably at the sight of the artistic monstrosity.

"Why do I have broccoli growing from my back?" Castiel questioned, leaning on his elbows.

"What? Lemme see." Dean muttered, leaning in to look for vegetables on his drawing of Cas.

"There." Castiel pointed it out, still befuddled.

"What…man, those are your wings." Dean snorted with an eye roll.

"Why are my wings broccoli-"

"Well, they were _supposed_ to be your wings." Dean finished.

"They look nothing like my wings." Castiel added as if he were being helpful.

"Maybe because I've never seen them. They could look like broccoli for all Sammy and I know." Dean smirked.

"Angels don't reveal their wings to humans. They're physical manifestations of our grace…and they don't look like broccoli, I assure you." Castiel replied, clear blue eyes looking over at his friend.

"Fine, fine." Dean mumbled, leaning back in his chair once again and closing his eyes.

When he woke up, red-and-orange rays of sundown were flooding through the shuttered windows of the motel room, and Castiel had gone. Sam was asleep on his own bed, snoring lightly.

On the table was the angel's completed pencil sketch of dean.

He'd gotten everything perfect, from the curve of his jaw to every dark gold eyelash.

Dean smirked as he picked up the drawing, secretly and silently admiring it.

He then looked down at his own drawing, which had fallen into his lap during his brief sleep.

The goofy-looking stick figure Cas still remained, although it seemed that Castiel himself had made some alterations.

The 'broccoli stalks' were gone from the angel's back, and replaced with Castiel's own work.

The doodle-angel now had billowing, beautifully sketched wings protruding from his back. The wings were all layered feathers, shaded lightly at where they sprouted from where the doodle's supposed shoulder blades were and shaded darker at the tips of the last bunches of feathers.

So that's what Cas' wings looked like.

Dean simply smirked, folding both drawing more carefully than Dean-Winchester-appropriate and slipping them into his jacket pocket.

Both sketches would never be shown to Sam or anyone else for that matter, they were private works of art, residing in the far corner of the glove compartment in the Impala.


End file.
